


A Just Concern

by Meisiluosi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, M/M, Some Fluff, Some angst, pavellan - Freeform, when your 'mum friend' doesn't like your boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meisiluosi/pseuds/Meisiluosi
Summary: The Inquisitor and Mother Giselle need to talk about Dorian Pavus.





	A Just Concern

It was a warm, breezy evening and the setting sun was painting the Skyhold garden red and gold.  
Giselle, however, was in no mood to enjoy the warmth or the view.

The spat she’d had in the library with Dorian Pavus and Inquisitor Lavellan earlier that day had left her upset, embarrassed, and out of her element.  
It had been hours and she felt she should have been over it by now. But an ugly aftertaste kept lingering about – like a wisp of poison in the air.  
  
When she spotted the Inquisitor walking towards her, chopping off the distance between them by long, energetic strides, her chest and stomach tightened a bit.   
Still, she smiled and dipped her head in greeting when he approached her.

“Mother Giselle? A word, if you may…”  
His face was hard to read – always a sure sign he was feeling way too many things at once. This conversation could go anywhere – and Giselle braced herself for a range of possibilities.   
“Certainly, Inquisitor.” She motioned for him to sit next to her – but he shook his head. She watched as one of his hands shot up to a loosened braid and began tugging and twisting. His whole body was tense and ringing with nervous energy, eyes roaming and darting about from beneath the furrowed brows.  
“The weather is lovely today.” She stood up and dusted off her robes. “Would you care for a stroll?”  
He accepted the suggestion with a grateful nod.   
As they began to walk, his silence lost some of its restlessness. He still held onto his words – but they were beginning to line up. She could read him well enough to know that much.

He finally spoke when they walked through the gate and onto the Skyhold bridge: “I never took you for a gossip, y’know.”  
“Dear Inquisitor, there’s a reason why they say ‘gossipy as a robed Mother’.”  
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he mumbled.  
“I said I wouldn’t repeat the rumours, Your Worship, and I never have,” she said. “But I assure you, there are others spreading them even as we speak. You shouldn’t encourage them.”  
He snickered. “And how exactly do you suggest I go about doing that?”  
She hesitated for a beat. “How true are those rumours?”  
“I’d say that’s between me and Dorian,” he replied.  
She sighed. “I see.”  
“No!” He stopped in his tracks. “No, Giselle, you don’t.” He didn’t raise his voice – but anger and frustration were breaking through. “Maker’s bligh…”  
“–Maker’s _blessed gaze_, Inquisitor.”  
“Not _now_, Giselle!“  
She fell silent and regarded him, a thorn of apprehension in her chest.  
"This… THIS…” He shoved his marked hand in front of her face. “It’s cost me a lot, y'know. It’s cost me a home and a family and a heartbreak. And some bonds I’m trying to establish here are too… Too _precious_ for you to—to sneak in and try to _unravel_ them behind me back! You could have spoken to me. You _should_ have spoken to me. I thought we were _friends_,” he said. “Blighted mercy, even after you set me up to become a bloody Inquisitor… I thought we were friends.”

Giselle’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she composed herself enough to better conceal her surprise. Not once had it occurred to her to think of their relationship in those terms.  
  
But such was the disposition of the Inquisitor.   
He saw friends everywhere.  
  
He scoffed and turned away, fixing his eyes on the horizon. “Well, shove a haft up me arse and call me a tool,” he said, sounding and looking utterly defeated. “Please, inform the rest of your gossip circle that who I spend my free time with or how is _my_ bloody business. Have a good night.”  
The sense of betrayal dripping off each softly spoken word burnt Giselle deeper than she’d expect or care to admit.  
“Inquisitor!” She called after him as he walked past her and back towards the gate.  
He wiped his eyes before turning to face her. “What?” he barked out.  
“Please. Try to understand my concern. A Tevinter…”  
He sniffled and let out a bitter chuckle. “Is it the same sort of concern that informs the scandalized gasps of_ 'sure the Maker wouldn’t send an **elf **in our hour of need’_…?”  
Giselle averted her eyes. She had no answer to that – and the weight of Lavellan’s gaze was suddenly a trifle too much to endure.  
“You said you didn’t know Dorian. I don’t remember ever seeing you _trying _to get to know him, y’know. How ‘bout that? Something to mull over, maybe?” He shrugged. “Anyway… As I said… Goodnight.” 

Giselle remained standing on the bridge long after the Inquisitor left and the sun disappeared behind the Frostbacks.   
She didn’t even register the cold until one of the guards walked over to her and offered her his cloak. “Everything alright, Mother Giselle?”  
She nodded and smiled, albeit unconvincingly. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

…

Dorian’s reading sessions in the Skyhold garden were a solitary pastime. People didn’t approach him or stop by for a chat. When someone’s shadow fell across the pages of his book, it typically didn’t linger there.  
But this time it did.  
Dorian looked up, expecting to see Das’s grinning face, because who else would it be - only to be met with a stern glare from the revered Mother.  
“That… Is a _chessboard_,” Dorian said, staring at the object in Mother Giselle’s arms.  
“It is, indeed,” she replied. “Glad to see you are in full possession of your wits. You are going to need them.” And with that, she sat next to Dorian and put the board on the bench between them.  
“I’m afraid whatever wits I have about me at the moment are not enough to enlighten me as to what you are trying to accomplish here.”  
She began to set the board. “I have seen you playing before and I have nobody to play with.”  
“Would you get to the point…”  
She put the last black piece in place with a resounding CLACK. “You’ve charmed your way into the Inquisitor’s quarters.”  
“Says who?”  
“The Inquisitor.”  
“Oh.”  
She turned the board around, offering him the black pieces. “I do not know you. And I have concerns. It only makes sense that to best address them I should probably start with getting to know you better.”  
“Why?” Dorian asked, voice heavily laced with vitriol and disdain. “Why should a Chantry Mother stick her nose into Das’s business or his…quarters…as you say? Haven’t you lot pestered him enough?”  
Giselle stared him dead in the eye. “Chantry has nothing to do with it, young man. I simply make it my business to look out for my friends.”


End file.
